


what could have been

by amorias



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bittersweet, M/M, Parallel Universes, Suicide, quantum immortality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 21:36:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10930509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorias/pseuds/amorias
Summary: He has all the memories of a life not known to them, and he is alone in that. Alternate universe.





	what could have been

It's beautiful out, and Wally could not have picked a better day to be his last.

He says goodbye to his parents, his mother kissing him on the cheek and his father giving him a hearty pat on the back, and he forces on a smile. They don't know that this would be the last time they'll see him, and that's fine. He walks towards his school, thinking vaguely that maybe he can do it for just one more day, but as the big building comes into view, he turns a corner and starts walking towards the bridge connecting Keystone and Central City.

The sky is blue and clear and everything is vividly colored. Wally feels strangely at ease as he walks, having come to terms with his plans weeks ago, and the restlessness of his existence melts from his mind as he grips the straps of his backpack tighter. He gets to the bridge a short while later, passing a few construction workers, walking by cars trying to get to work, nonchalant and straight-faced. He pauses at the side of the bridge, sliding off his backpack and laying it on the ground, putting his hands on the railing and looking out across the river.

He crawls over the guard rail, holding on, closes his eyes, and counts to ten.

He drops from the railing, staring at his hands releasing the guard, flickers of his life and thoughts passing through until everything goes black. In the foggiest recesses of his brain as he plummets towards the water, he realizes he doesn't want to die.

 

He gasps for air as he plunges out of the icy water, staring up at the sky, covered over with clouds, a solid blanket of grey. He coughs water out of his lungs, and he screams in a hoarse voice, his lower body sore and he struggles to stay afloat, spitting out muddy water from his mouth, blackness creeping at the edge of his vision.

 

Mist splashes at his face, the rocking of the boat he's now in making him nauseated. He swallows back the raw feeling in his throat and looks around. He's closer to the edge of the river than to the bridge, and he is soaked to the bone with frigid water, a soggy blanket the only thing protecting him from the stinging wind.

“What happened?” He asks, faintly.

“You tell me,” the coast guard says, looking back to give him a half-smile. He looks forward again, expression steely. “Sure is good those guys saw you fall. And that you survived.” His voice lowers here. “Most people don't.”

“How...?”

“Guess you're just lucky.”

This is a hollow reassurance, and Wally tries to stand up, but the aching in his legs and the rocking of the boat as it slows while coming to shore throws him off, and he falls down immediately. He blinks at his hands and doesn't try again until they pull into the dock, where an ambulance awaits him, and he's ushered in without preamble. As he lays on the stretcher, people around him taking blood, checking his vitals, and looking for a pulse that keeps vanishing, he can't help but feel like his body is vibrating.

 

It's a stream of doctors and nurses and family members after that, blurring into his memory until he can't remember who he has seen before or told his explanations to. He can't get rid of the nagging feeling that something is different, something is _wrong_ with him more than just the bruised legs and fractured pelvis and broken foot, all from hitting the water in a misshapen cannonball. He's constantly hungry and sometimes he feels ridiculously restless, a vibrating need to jump out of bed and run a marathon, as the days tick by agonizingly slow.

Two days later, and a nurse is examining his bruising, which has gone from a painfully dark maroon color to a yellowed green.

“You heal fast,” she comments, and he shrugs, not knowing what to say. As she is lowering the sheets back over his legs, a receptionist pops her head in.

“Mr. West, you have a visitor.”

“Um, sure,” he says, and the nurse leaves, letting in a boy with dark hair, wearing sunglasses indoors and trying his best to look cheery. He holds a gift basket in his hands that's full to the brim with junk food and Wally has to stop himself from drooling.

“Hey, KF!”

Wally is momentarily thrown off by the random nickname, but ignores it.

“Hey, Dick,” He says dazedly, giving an attempt at a smile, but it mostly comes off as a grimace as he tries to sit up more in bed.

He sees Dick glancing around the room before gesturing to the basket.

“Compliments of the Wayne family,” he says with a grin, voice low. “It was Alfred's idea.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Wally says, eyeing the bag of Chicken Whizees that is sitting front and center. Dick collapses into the chair that is stationed next to the bed, seeming exhausted.

“M'gann, Conner, and Artemis are coming soon,” he says, something on his face looking wrong. He hesitates for a second before pulling off his sunglasses and rubbing his eyes – the dark circles under them don't go unnoticed by Wally. He's looking at a spot just outside the window, avoiding his gaze. “Look, Wally... why'd you do this?” He asks lowly, swallowing. “Why didn't you... I don't know, why didn't you talk to us?” He closes his eyes for just a few moments longer than a standard blink. “You're my best friend, why didn't you talk to me?”

Wally's mouth suddenly goes completely dry, and the best he can do is shrug. He leans back in his pillow and stares up at the ceiling.

“I...” Dick starts again, and Wally turn his head to look at him. “I feel like such an idiot. You seemed okay, but I should've seen the signs, I thought--”

“Dick,” he says, closing his eyes, his voice quiet, pleading. “Stop.”

They sit in silence for a while, Wally shifting his head back so he's counting the stains on the ceiling tiles.

“Say, Dick...” he starts, realizing that he has no idea who those people are that Dick just told him would be coming soon even _are._ “Who're--”

“Wally!” A gentle voice, calm and kind, says from the door, and he stops, turning towards the voice. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Dick putting his sunglasses back on. Three people he doesn't recognize crowd in the doorway. One is pale and freckled, with hair almost as red as his own, and he blinks a few times, because it almost looks like she's floating along the floor instead of walking. She's holding flowers, and a little get well balloon, and chocolates. The only boy is tall and imposing, dark hair and piercing blue eyes that make him want to shrink away to nothing, but his expression is that of relief and kindness, though it almost looks misplaced on his face.

The other girl, on the other hand, looks unabashedly furious and indignant, and she strides up to him, glaring fiercely at him and almost making to hit him, but Dick jumps up and grabs her forearm.

“Artemis,” Dick says, face blank and voice not hinting at any sense of surprise at what she just about to do. No one else seems surprised either.

“What!” She says, overly loud, and the door closes without anyone touching it.

“C'mon, he's _hurt_ ,” Dick says, voice too serious. “That's enough.”

They have a brief staring match before he lets go of her arm and sits back down. The girl, whose name is apparently Artemis, turns to face Wally.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” She yells, clearly fighting the urge to hit him again. Her blonde hair is bristling in her ponytail like the tail of an irritated cat. “What is _wrong_ with you, Wally!?”

He stares up at her, dumbstruck.

“Of all the stupid things you could do--”

He darts his eyes back and forth between her and Dick.

“I can tell you're not listening Wally,” she says, hands on her hips and leaning in closer to him, and his eyes snap up to her's. “What do you have to say for yourself?” She straightens up and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Um...” He opens and closes his mouth a few times like a fish gasping for air, looking over to Dick for some kind of support. Dick is _extremely_ unhelpful, staring up at the ceiling and leaning back in his chair. He tries again, but the only thing that comes out is another “um.” She rolls her eyes furiously at him, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to face the wall. The other girl glides over to Wally and wraps him in a semi-awkward hug from her standing position.

“She was really worried about you, Wally,” she says in a hushed whisper. “I could feel the concern coming off her in waves.”

“Was not!” She screeches as Dick starts laughing manically in his chair, and she shoots him a glare.

Wally watches this little soap opera unfold in front of him, eyes flickering around, until the girl says, “I'm just really glad you're okay, Wally.”

“Oh, uh... yeah. Thanks,” he mutters. “Me too? Um... if you guys don't mind me asking...” he looks from Artemis, who is still pouting angrily, to the unidentified girl and boy, to Dick and then back again, “Who are you guys?”

Everyone stares at him.

“Hello, Megan!” the girl who was hugging him says after the long silence, slapping a hand to her forehead and smiling. “This is an Earth joke, isn't it?”

“Yeah, good one, KF,” Dick says warily, eyeing Wally carefully and giving a half-hearted chuckle. There's a pause before he continues. “You _are_ joking, right?”

“Uh,” is all he can come up with, staring very earnestly at all the people around him. Dick sinks further into his chair, a hand over his face. Artemis is looking at him very suspiciously, like she does not find any of this business very funny, even if it was a joke. Megan looks scared, or maybe like she'll start crying. “Um, sorry, but... yeah.” Wally shrugs hopelessly. “I don't even know your names?”

There is a long silence and he thinks this is possibly the least funny thing that has ever happened to him. A horn blares outside and the air conditioning unit by the door is humming loudly. He tries to shift uncomfortably in his bed, but the movement sends a shooting pain up his back from the crack in his pelvis, so he stays tensed up, waiting for the moment to be over.

“Maybe he has amnesia,” the unidentified boy suggests suddenly, startling Wally. That must be the first time he's heard him talk this whole time.

“But he recognized Robin, right?”

Before he even has the opportunity to answer, the girl's (Megan's?) hands reach over and rest around his head, closing her eyes. Wally has a weird twinge inside his brain that makes the room spin, but as she pulls her hands away, it stops.

“There's no amnesia,” she says, opening her eyes just enough to stare at the floor. “It's-- we... this is not Wally as we know him.”

“What are you saying?”

“It's not him?”

“No, it is Wally... kind of. It's hard to explain,” she says, struggling for a moment. “He has no memories of us,” she gestures loosely to herself, the boy, and Artemis, “or the team. All of his memories of Robin and Kaldur and Flash are... ordinary.”

“So you're _not_ really Wally?” The tall boy asks, eyebrows creasing suspiciously, his voice a little more growly and dangerous than Wally would have liked.

Wally can feel Dick staring at him and he chances a glance over, giving a little shrug. What is he supposed to say? Dick suddenly stands and puts his hands down on the bed, leaning over.

“If he wasn't Wally, he wouldn't have used my real name,” he says, quietly.

“Real name?” Wally responds, voice matching Dick's in tone and quietness. “What d'you...”

“Robin,” he says, straightening up. “I'm Robin here.” He looks away, his voice almost sad, and Wally looks around, taking note of the time. It's only been fifteen minutes but it feels like hours. “You call me Rob. Artemis.” He gestures to the blonde girl. “Miss Martian.” The red haired girl. “Superboy.” The dark haired boy. “Kaldur is Aqualad. We're a team.”

“A team?” Wally asks, dumbly, and everyone is staring at him, Artemis's dark eyes boring holes in his skull and he feels his throat closing up. “Who... who am I?”

Dick looks directly at him.

“Kid Flash.”

 

Sixteen and too smart for his own good, Wally started his junior year of high school. He already slipped into boredom by second period, skipping through the pages in his advanced physics textbook to see what was next and daydreaming about skyping with Dick when he got out of school, because he knew he didn't start school at Gotham Academy for two more weeks. In between classes, a water fountain squirted water on his pants and he hoped that no one noticed as he slipped into the locker room to change for gym class. The teacher announced they would be playing dodgeball.

Everyone but Wally cheered.

“Hey, West!” He heard, and turned just in time to see a dodgeball headed straight for his face, hitting him and making him see stars. He shook his head, glaring at the boy who did it, until more come his way.

He got hit in the face again, and again, and again, boys laughing boldly at him after the fact and girls stifling laughter behind their fists, and he ran a hand under his nose, seeing blood. He stared at it and blinked, slowly, before raising his hand and asking to go to the nurse. He could still hear their laughter as he left, having gathered his things and walking in the opposite direction from the office to leave campus and go home. He plugged up his nose as he walked, breathing through his mouth and tasting blood.

I'm going to kill myself, he thought, and he felt much lighter for it.

 

Today, only a week after admission, is Wally's last day in the hospital. After the initial surprise of being told that he was suddenly a superhero (which, okay, totally cool but kind of insane and unbelievable), Dick gave him the run down of his powers. Super speed, superior reflexes, accelerated healing and metabolism – those last two in particular cleared up a lot of questions he had. At 11:30 in the morning, Wally looks up from his book as the door to his room opens.

Barry and a person he recognizes as Ray Palmer – aka the top molecular physicist in basically the whole universe – enter the room, closing the door behind them.

“Hey, Kid,” Barry says, warmly. “I wanted to introduce you to someone. This is--”

“Dr. Ray Palmer,” Wally cuts him off, nearly jumping out of his bed to shake his hand. His voice speeds up as he talks, blurring his words together. “Wow, this is crazy, it's so cool to meet you, I've read all your books--”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down.” Barry puts a hand on Wally's shoulder, who steps back and nods.

“Right, right, I'm cool,” he says, putting his hands out in front of him. “How do you guys... ? Wait, is this like a Justice League thing?”

“Something like that,” Ray says, smiling. “I heard about... what happened to you from Barry. I think I may have a theory about what may have happened. Have you ever heard of the multiverse?”

“The theory that there are an infinite number of Earths,” Wally says. “It's a bunch of junk though, pseudoscience that they make up for comic books.”

“That's where you're wrong,” Barry says. “The multiverse is real.”

Wally rolls his eyes.

“Barry, c'mon! Don't tell me you believe in this crap too.”

“I've traversed it, so I think I would know, Kid.”

Wally stops short, staring at him.

“What-- how? You'd have to rip a hole in the fabric of space, or make a wormhole, or, or...” he struggles to come up with another ridiculous scenario that could allow this to happen.

“Or vibrate at the exact frequency that the other Earth is vibrating at?” Barry finishes for him, raising an eyebrow. There is silence in the room, before Ray nods.

“Right... so along with the multiverse, there is a theory called 'quantum immortality.'”

Wally didn't have an answer for this one, and he just stares at the creases in his hands.

“Basically, if you die in one universe, you just jump over to the next one and resume where you left off,” he continues.

“This isn't where I left off,” Wally spits, crossing his arms. He's quiet for a long moment, sulking. “Am I dead in the other universe? The one I jumped from?”

“More than likely, yes,” Ray says, slowly. The confirmation makes Wally's stomach drop, and he wishes he could take this all back – he made such a huge mistake. How could he do this to his parents, to Dick, to Barry and Iris? He hates himself, but he claws himself back from spiraling into thinking about his family, consumed with grief, his possessions in his room collecting dust, because he will not make this mistake again.

“Can I ever go back?” He asks, quietly.

“According to the limited research on the subject... no. I'm afraid you're going to be here for awhile, Wally.”

He stares at a stain spot on the ground, and he nods, because that is the best he can do.

 

A dark bruise had blossomed over the bridge of Wally's nose, purple and painful.

“It hurts every time I sneeze. Or breathe. Or like, do anything,” he lamented to Dick over video chat that evening, leaning into the camera and examining it in the image of himself in the corner of the screen. He poked it, and winced, quiet for a long while.

“Something on your mind?” Dick asked, breaking the silence as if he was testing the waters.

Of course there was, but coming out and asking him the questions he wanted to – did Dick ever just feel like the biggest loser on the planet? Like no one cared if you were alive or dead?

“I just wish I was there,” Wally said, shrugging, making an attempt at sounding casual and failing, betrayed by the crack in his voice.

“I wish you were here too, Wally,” Dick responded, earnest and open and all Wally could do was nod as his heart clenched in his chest, and he worried about what he will miss.

 

They had a welcome back party for Wally at the Cave the next night. It's disorienting, being around people he knew from a different life and meeting others in a whirlwind. Roy and Kaldur are there, and it felt like some semblance of normal until he periodically realizes they aren't just Roy and Kaldur – they're Red Arrow and Aqualad and things are so different here, as evidenced by the vibrating of his muscles just under his skin.

A few hours into the night, he is exhausted from meeting people who already know him.

“I need some air,” he mumbles to no one in particular, scooting out his chair and walking unsteadily to the back entrance. He steps into the cold night air and sits down in the sand, holding his head in his hands, breathing in salt air and trying to stop himself from shaking. His memories haunt him, and he wonders how things became so different. Of all the universes to jump to, it had to be this one, which is so different and so much better than what he knows. He has friends, and amazing superpowers, and he sees Dick all the time, but--

“Um. Hi.”

Wally starts, pulling up his head and looking up, surprised to see Artemis standing next to him and then, even more surprisingly, she sits down next to him.

“Just checking to see if you're okay,” she says, looking uncomfortable.

“Don't strain yourself,” he mutters, falling into an old habit he didn't know he had, staring out at the horizon, dark water crashing miles and miles away under a greyed out sky, the moon only barely visible through the mist.

He has all the memories of a life not known to them, and he is alone in that. He alone knows Dick as Dick Grayson, adopted son of billionaire Bruce Wayne, rather than Robin, sidekick to Batman, the most famous superhero to ever exist. He alone knows Roy and Kaldur as old family friends from across the country who they see every year like clockwork when the West-Allens go to the west coast for vacation every summer. Now time is all screwed up, and he can't tell what is real from this life or his last.

“Wally, I'm sorry, okay?” Artemis says, pulling him from his thoughts. Her voice has tones of panic, of that slight screechiness that she gets when she's upset. He blinks at her dumbly. “For everything,” she adds on, voice lowering.

“I can guarantee that it wasn't you,” he says, looking back out towards the ocean. “I didn't even know you, remember? Don't flatter yourself.” He grimaces at his cynicism and doesn't know if the words are from him from this world or from the other.

“I'm trying to be nice to you, can you drop the act?” She says, voice almost sad. She reaches for his hand, but he pulls it away.

She doesn't look at him.

He drops his head to his knees and sighs, steeling himself before getting up.

“Yeah, okay,” he says as he pushes himself to his feet. He brushes himself off and gestures his hands out to his sides. “I'm good, okay? Don't worry about it.” He turns, kicking up sand as he walks back to the cave, expecting her to follow him.

When he gets to the entrance of the cave and looks back, she is still there, staring out across the ocean at a point indeterminate to him.

 

The first snow of the season touched down in Gotham the night that Wally flew in for a long weekend over at the Wayne's. It was light, just barely enough to stick and cover the ground with powder, not even enough to have a snowball fight (not like they didn't try). Wally and Dick walked through the streets the next morning, and everything was toned down and quiet, the usual smog and gunshots millions of miles from here.

They talked like normal and Wally felt light, like a weight was lifted off his chest after he left Keystone. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his yellow snow jacket and his cheeks stung from the cold temp and the wind, and his laugh made fog in front of his face.

“I missed you, dude,” Dick said, unexpectedly, and Wally is caught off guard.

“Dick, we talk like every night on Skype,” he says, smirking. “I know you're like, basically in love with me, but try to tone it down.”

“Shut up! I mean I missed _you_ , like this,” Dick stopped walking and gestured at Wally. “You know, back to normal.”

The redhead also stopped in his tracks, and looked at his friend in some measure of surprise before turning his gaze down to the snow, already a light tone of grey and slushy.

“I'm relieved, you know,” he continued. “You've been really down lately, and...” He hesitated, and Wally looked at him curiously. Dick shook his head and patted his friend on the back. “Just glad you're back to your old self, Wall-man.”

“Yeah, of course,” Wally said, grinning back. “S'all good over here!” He gave Dick a playful punch on the arm, and grinned, and shoved the plans he made to the back of his mind, at least for this moment.

 

“What was your life like?” M'gann blurts out a few days later, when they're all in the kitchen sans Artemis. Everyone freezes and takes a slow look towards Wally, and then Kaldur addresses M'gann.

“Perhaps now is not the time,” Kaldur says.

“But I know you're all interested in knowing too,” she defends, turning a soft shade of pink through the green of her skin.

Wally is too struck by surprise to say anything, so he gestures helplessly in the air for a moment before clearing his throat. “I dunno, the same, kind of...” he swallows, trying to relieve the dry patch in the back of his throat. “'Cept for the superpowers, of course, that's totally new.” He gives out a weak laugh and shrugs half-heartedly.

“If you weren't Kid Flash, what did you do?” She asks, and it's innocent, and he knows it, but it causes a twinge of pain to run across his chest. He puts on his best fake smile, perfected after years and years, and he nudges Dick in the ribs good-naturedly.

“Bugged this guy, even from hundreds of miles away and without zeta tubes,” he says. “I know, pretty impressive.” He rubs at his neck and shrugs again. “And I ran track at my high school and...” he swallows again, tongue suddenly feeling thick in his mouth, “and that was about it, I guess.” He tapers off, blinking his gaze towards the floor. There are things he won't say – can't say, because they will just sound too pathetic in light of his new life, so he keeps them to himself and allows the conversation to shift around him, grounding himself in the way Dick gently touches his arm at the end of his story and how it makes his whole body warm.

 

Wally went to Wayne Manor for the first time at the age of 13, for some kind of charity soirée for Gotham PD hosted by Bruce Wayne. Liaisons from different police stations around the country were invited, including Wally's uncle. Wally has shown some vague interest in getting into CSI like Barry, so with his parent's acceptance, he was brought along for the ride.

But jeeze, this was _so_ not Wally's kind of thing. The ballroom that they were in alone is gigantic, not to say for the rest of the house. And there weren't any kids his age around, so he had kind of just been clinging to Barry and Iris's sides for most of the evening until maybe nine o'clock, when he had taken refuge by sitting on the floor on the outskirts of the room, fighting with his tie which was actively trying to strangle him.

“Hey.”

Wally looked up from his seat on the floor to see a kid, maybe a few years younger than him, wiry and dark-haired and dressed immaculately.

“Um. Hey?”

The kid sat down next to him in his nice suit and Wally found himself straightening up a little.

“My name's Dick,” he said, holding out a hand. “Dick Grayson.”

“Wally West,” he mumbled back, cheeks burning, half-heartedly taking Dick's outstretched hand and shaking it.

“Are you having fun?”

“I'm feeling a little overwhelmed,” he admitted, shrugging and staring down at the floor. So many people, all adults who he doesn't know, and he's just some thirteen year old kid, barely starting puberty and feeling uncomfortable all the time.

“Hey, have you ever wondered why isn't anyone ever just whelmed?”

“What?”

“Like, you can be overwhelmed or underwhelmed... but no one is ever just...” he gestured in a circular motion in the air, “whelmed, you know?” Wally's expression did not change from its bewildered state, and Dick waves a hand in front of his face. “Never mind. Want to see something cool?”

“Uh, I guess so,” Wally started before being dragged up by his hand – this kid was really strong, even though he didn't look it. Dick pulled him out of the ballroom and down the hall, laughing boyishly as he suddenly turned and yanked him into a library. He let go of Wally's hand and made a beeline for one of the bookshelves in the middle, reaching up for a book just barely within his reach on one of the shelves. He pulled it back and the huge grandfather clock against the wall down the aisle slid along the wall, revealing a set of stairs.

“Whoa...” Wally breathed, voice echoing, following Dick, who had taken off down the stone steps. “How do you know this stuff?”

“Uh, dude, I live here?” Dick said, as if it was obvious.

Wally stopped in his tracks, nearly doing a double take.

“Wait a second... who are you?”

“I thought I told you already, I'm Dick.” He ran a hand along the edge of the wall, fingers brushing over the dents in the rocks as they go down the stairs. Wally regained some focus and continued to follow him gingerly down the steps. “I'm Bruce Wayne's adopted son.”

“Why is your house like a superhero cliché?”

“Bruce's family has been the richest family in Gotham for ages. Lots of enemies around every corner, you know?” He grinned mischievously back at Wally before pushing open a door into a huge room, filled with weapons and huge movie props and vintage cars like some kind of museum. The whole place looked like a cave, open and kind of dank, but Dick flipped a switch and light flooded the area. “Bruce is gone on business like, all the time, so I have a lot of time to explore the manor myself. I call this the Batcave!”

“Must be pretty sweet, getting adopted by a billionaire like him.” Wally looked around in amazement, hands on his hips. “There must be so much cool stuff in this place!”

“Something like that,” Dick responded, a little flatly, but Wally, at only 13, had neither the attention to detail or the social graces to notice. The redhead stopped examining an old car, shiny onyx black and long, and turned to the other boy, grinning.

“Hey, I'm going to be in town for a few more days. We should hang out!”

Dick produced a pen out of what seemed like thin air and wrote a phone number on Wally's hand. He stuffed the pen back in his pocket and smiled.

“C'mon, let me give you the tour.”

 

Wally lays in bed, so tired he can't see straight, his body refusing to let him sleep. He rolls over to look at the clock and it's 3:16 in the morning. He rolls back to his back and stares up at the ceiling, specks of light from the crack in his curtains dancing along his vision.

After four minutes that feel like four hours, he tosses off his covers and sits up, shoving on his shoes and throwing on a sweatshirt and creeping out of his house, careful to avoid the creaky floorboard right near the door. He walks for awhile, not really sure where he's going, before realizing that he could be running, be anywhere in the blink of an eye. So he does, jumping ahead and streaking down streets before skidding to a stop in front of a zeta tube that he forgot existed.

He steps into the abandoned police box and barely has to say the name before he is whisked away to Gotham city, ending up in a disheveled phone booth in an alley only a few blocks from Wayne Manor. He sprints to Dick's house and knocks on the door.

“Master West,” Alfred says, unperturbed, when he opens the door to see him shivering on the wide doorstep. Honestly, what was he expecting? It's not like Dick would answer the door himself, and suddenly he feels a little stupid. “To what do we owe this early morning visit?”

“Um, is Dick here?”

“Master Dick is on business with Master Bruce at the present moment, but they should be back in a few hours time. May I set you up in a guest room and some tea?”

Wally just nods dumbly and is led into the mansion – it's a carbon copy of the one in his universe, but as he passes Bruce Wayne's study, a clock that he swears was never there before catches his eye. Alfred shows him to a guest room, right next to Dick's room, and he strolls off to make tea. Wally must have fallen asleep the moment he sat in the plush chair by the window, because he wakes up with a start, a tray next to him, sunlight streaming in through the curtains, and a note from Dick reading “I'm home!” in his messy, 14-year-old boy scrawl.

He gets up, gulping back the cold tea and the biscuits left by Alfred, and walks to the next door over and knocks, tapping his foot anxiously in the moments it takes for Dick to open up.

“Well, well, well,” Dick says as he opens the door, grinning. “Look who it is. What did I do to deserve the honor of Wally West showing up at Wayne Manor?”

“Couldn't sleep,” he says, pushing his way into the room. The place is immaculate as always, bed made and curtains drawn, decorative swords hanging from plaques around the room among posters of professional sports players and the odd picture of him with his parents, him with Bruce. Him with Wally, with the team. Wally forces his gaze away, flopping down onto Dick's bed and turning onto his side. “Sounds like you couldn't either.”

“Crime never sleeps,” Dick says, melodramatically putting a fist to his chest, “so neither can justice.” He cracks a smile, wrinkles forming around his dark-circled eyes.

“Dude, you are such a dork,” Wally says, rolling his eyes. He hesitates before continuing. “How long have you been doing this?”

There is a pained look on Dick's face.

“Ever since my parents were killed.”

Wally winces. Obviously that hasn't changed – even if Dick is Robin and all, he wouldn't be living here if his parents were still alive. “Who knows that you're... y'know.” He gestures vaguely into nothingness. _Who else knows that you're Robin._

“You, Bruce, and Alfred are the only ones who know me as both.” He pauses. “I told you when you were 14.”

There's an awkward silence, and Wally feels like he should apologize. Instead, he tries to smile.

“Hey, when I knew you, you were just a scrawny acrobat kid,” he says. “Not some superhero.” His voice catches on the last word, and he swallows, his pathetic half-smile faltering. “Things were different.”

“Not that different.”

They sit in the quiet for a moment, Wally looking out the window. Snow is starting to fall. In the distance, far from the long driveway of the mansion, he can hear car horns blaring and the faint wailing of sirens, ever present even at 9 in the morning.

“Do you know what Artemis's deal is?” He asks suddenly, making an attempt at sounding casual.

Dick stares at him for a moment before seeming to come to, shaking his head and crossing his forearms in an X formation in front of him.

“Oh, no way, dude,” he says defiantly. “I am _not_ involved in your relationship drama. I can't even count on both hands how many times you guys have broken up before this.”

Wally blinks at him dumbly.

“Relationship?” He asks, equally dumbly. Broken _up_? Relationship – with Artemis? “That's not-- that's not possible.” He has come to this conclusion – it is not possible for them to have been dating. “Who even _is_ she?”

“Oh, come _on_ , Wally. You were obsessed with her for months before you guys got together. It was disgusting.”

“You're not listening, Dick. That's not—” It's impossible. He sits up in the bed, clutching at the edge of it. It's not possible. Wally is in love with someone else who happens to be standing right in front of him, but he swallows that confession down along with the lump in his throat.

“Just spend a little more time with her,” he suggests nonchalantly, coming over and flopping down on the bed next to Wally. “She'll grow on you, trust me.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively until Wally pushes him on the shoulder, laughing, and pretends any of this feels real.

 

It was late May, and Wally was 15.

“Bruce calls it 'hand-eye coordination training,'” Dick said, the eye roll apparent in his voice as he did some overly dramatic air quotes. “It's nice to play against someone who is normal.” He shot towards the basket and it circled the rim a few times before slipping in.

“Yeah, because the kid who has been an acrobat since birth needs more of that,” Wally says, jogging forward to reclaim the ball as it bounces towards the edge of the court.

“One on one?” Dick offered with a grin.

“You're on.”

They played for an hour and Wally just barely managed to edge out Dick in points – his height finally got the better of him as Wally was able to jump up with a hand extended to slam the ball out of the path of the basket.

“Better luck next time,” he teases. “You may have the superior athletic ability even against an excellent specimen such as myself, but I,” Wally took a few steps forward, jutting his chin out to exaggerate his height advantage, “still got a couple years on you, Rob.” He flicked a finger at Dick's chest, who swatted it away good-naturedly.

“Gloat all you want, KF,” he said, holding the basketball in front of him in both hands, “One day, I'll be just as tall as you – maybe then I'll even let you use your speed.” He grinned as he threw the ball behind him, and it swished into the net.

 

Wally sits at a desk in the quarters that were assigned to the him in the Cave, squinting at a dozen newspaper clippings covering the entire surface. He stares at the pictures and reads the articles over and over, and even with super speed, it takes him ages to process. He's reading one, a trashy tabloid-esque clip about the love lives of the team similar to the ones usually reserved for celebrities on his Earth, for what must be the tenth time when he grows frustrated and throws it down, pushing it away from him.

He pushes his chair out from the desk and leans back, rubbing the butts of his palms into his stinging eyes. He reads them over and over, but he can't let go of his own memories. These clipping are like reading an elaborate story where he happens to be one of the main characters. He groans, audibly, before flinching at the sound of light knocking on his door frame. M'gann stands in his doorway.

“Hey, Wally,” she says, voice soft all over. “Can I come in?” When he nods, she takes a few steps in, looking over his desk.

“I may... have a solution?” M'gann says quietly as she gestures towards the crumpled up newspaper articles, voice hesitant and questioning, like she isn't sure how he'll react. He raises his eyebrows, imploring her to go on, and she does. “I can restore memories. I've read Wally's mind before, and we have a lot of shared experiences. I could show them to you.”

“But...”

_But I'm not him_ , he want to says automatically, but he stops himself.

Could this be what he wants? It would make things so much easier. He wouldn't have questions about where he stands with Artemis, with Dick, questions about how his powers work or what they've all experienced together on this team.

“Do it,” he says. She has him lay on the bed and close his eyes, and her fingers press into his temples, her palms just barely resting on his cheeks.

His mind flashes through landscapes, deserts of Bialya, snow-covered wastelands within magic buildings, deep forest of Santa Prisca.

A lab, deep underground, where him, Robin, and Aqualad found Superboy. The gymnasium of Gotham Academy, where a single arrow saved his ass. A jungle, where Artemis wrapped up his broken arm, pretending to be indignant about it even though her touch was gentle.

A space station far above the Earth, where he and Artemis kissed for the first time.

“Wally!”

Wally bolts upright, sweaty and panicked, as M'gann yells his name. He's panting, and he lays a hand over his heart, which is beating so fast it's impossible to feel it. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed to sit up, and he grips the sheets so tightly his knuckles go white, willing himself to stop shaking. He looks up at M'gann, who has stepped back from him, her hands over her mouth, looking like she wants to cry.

He shuffles his gaze awkwardly away from her to the floor and they sit there in silence for too long. She reaches out a hand to place on his shoulder, and it feels warm and friendly and comforting.

“I'm sorry, Wally,” she whispers. “I... I didn't realize it would be so powerful. I'm so sorry. I don't think we should continue.”

He sits there for what feels like decades even though it must only be a few seconds, and he nods his head in a silent agreement.

 

“Okay, when I say go, start running,” Barry said, absentmindedly clicking at the buttons on the stopwatch faster than average.

“Uh, yeah, that's kinda how timed trials _work_ ,” Wally teased. His uncle gives him a look and he just grins.

He was 13 and had just spent a week in the hospital. He was so cooped up that he had tons of energy left to burn, and even now, he couldn't stop shaking out his hands and legs.

“Ready?” Barry raised a hand into the air and then brought it down in a blur. “Go!”

Wally took off around the track and he could feel his speed increasing with every passing moment – everything seemed to slow down around him and electricity crackled through him. His tenth lap around and 3 minutes later, Barry signaled for him to stop. Wally tried to skid to a stop but he couldn't decelerate fast enough and he ran into the fence along the edge of the track, making him fall back and pushing grate marks into his forehead.

Barry jogged his way over, leaning over Wally and resting his hands on his knees.

“Not bad, kid,” he said. “We may have to work on stopping but,” Barry reached a hand out to Wally, who took it as he helped himself up, “it may be possible that I have a new sidekick.”

 

Wally is up too early.

He gets up and decides to go for a run – he runs at a normal pace (okay, maybe semi-normal – he still hasn't gotten a handle on this speed thing, and it sort of slips out without him meaning to and suddenly he's crashing into the side of a building at 200 miles per hour) towards the high school to do laps around the track and feel some semblance of normal. He goes for awhile, until the foggy early morning air clears, and he can see a figure approaching the track.

“Thought you'd be here,” Barry says, pushing open the gate.

“Yeah?” Wally responds absentmindedly, thinking about things that feel far away from this.

There is silence for a little while, Wally stretching his arms above his head and listening to a bird chirp nearby, to the faint sounds of cars driving along the main road.

“How's it been going?” Barry asks, trying to sound casual, hands in the pockets of his jacket.

“I mean... fine, I guess,” Wally says blankly. Fine, if you consider his memories feeling different now than they did before to be fine. He hesitates for a moment before continuing, Barry waiting patiently all the while. “I just... I can't remember things like I used to,” he says, extending his clasped hands behind his back and stretching. “It's like... I have things that I remember but aren't real. They didn't happen to me – well, they happened to me, just not _this_ me.” He looks up to Barry, who is making a pained expression. “What?”

“Wally... the things you remember might not be real, but the memories are. The longer you stay here, the more your memories will change,” Barry says, looking at him very seriously, so seriously that Wally is suddenly terrified at what is coming. “You won't be the guy you used to be.”

“How do you know?”

Barry closes his eyes, tightening his jaw, trying to steel his resolve before he speaks again.

“I have made mistakes as the Flash that have changed reality around me,” he confesses. He acts as if he is going to clarify, but instead seems to think better of it, and instead stays silent.

“What can I do?” Wally asks, straightening up.

“There's nothing you can do.”

Wally feels heavy against the ground, words replaying in his mind at super speed, and he tries to recount memories that all now feel slightly off.

“I've gotta go,” he mumbles, and he's off, leaving Barry in a cloud of dust, and he doesn't try to follow him as Wally runs towards the nearest zeta tube, landing in Gotham in a matter of minutes, arriving at Wayne Manor seconds later.

He resists his strong urge to rip open the door and knocks instead, pacing so rapidly that by the time the door is opening it feels like it's happening in slow motion.

“Is Dick here?” He blurts out as soon as Alfred's face appears in the doorway.

“Certainly. May I escort you--” he starts, but Wally cuts him off gracelessly.

“No, I've got it, thanks Alfred,” he says in a blurred voice, forcing himself to slow down as he half-jogs to Dick's room and knocks while opening the door at the same time, heartbeat pounding in his ears.

“Give me a minute, Bruce,” Dick says, not turning from the stack of books at his desk.

“Dick, it's me,” Wally says as he takes a few more steps in, and Dick turns in his chair to look at him. He swallows, suddenly feeling strangled by his tongue, and he clears his throat. “I don't think I have much more time to tell you this,” he says, voice just a frame more panicked than before, grabbing at his friend's shoulders. Dick places his hands on top of Wally's and gives him a look.

“Dude, what's with the dramatics?” He asks, grinning up at him. “You've got plenty of time.”

“I'm serious.” Wally pulls his hands away, uncomfortable with the way his skin heats up pleasantly against the touch, and he starts pacing. “M'gann gave me memories from this universe and I'm losing the ones from before, and I have no idea what is real and what isn't.” He looks at Dick and swallows hard. “I'm scared, dude. I need to tell you--”

“KF,” Dick says, voice calm, placating, and he stands to put a hand softly on Wally's arm, “Stay whelmed, okay? We'll figure this out, we always do. We can talk to Dr. Palmer, or to Barry--”

Wally whirls around and grabs his friend by the arms to stop him from talking.

“Rob, I was in love with you,” he blurts out, an unwelcome confession in the face of his best friend who knows nothing about him. Dick stays still, stone-faced, only the faintest flicker of emotion passing through his blue eyes, only slow enough for someone with super speed to perceive. “I don't know if I'll remember how I feel and I needed to tell you.” He straightens up, swallowing back the tightness in his throat, his grip on Dick's arms loosening only slightly. They stand in silence for what feels like absolute centuries – the change in time perception is something that he still hasn't gotten used to, and it makes it so difficult when seconds drag on for days. He lets out an awkward laugh. “C'mon dude, say something?”

Dick is fourteen and is an inch taller than the Dick he knows (or maybe he has just grown over the past year and Wally hasn't noticed) and he is almost (almost) level with Wally and it is a small, simple push forward to make their lips meet in a kiss that is too brief and fleeting and disappears into nothing as soon as he pulls back. Wally's face flushes with heat, making his ears go pink and his freckles stand out.

“Just remember this,” Dick says, and he kisses him again, and Wally lets his thoughts simmer and hopes that this is enough.

 

“Can I tell you something?” Robin asked him, hesitantly. It was a summer night, and they sat on the roof of a tall building of Gotham, legs dangling over the edge, high above the blurring car lights below. The heat was just settling down, leaving a sticky feeling of humid, smoggy air in its wake.

Wally was 14 years old.

“Of course, dude,” Wally said with a grin. “What's up?”

Robin blew out a breath, almost imperceptible, as if he was nervous, and he reached up and pulled off his domino mask.

His eyes were dark pools of blue, and Wally couldn't stop himself from staring, slack-jawed.

“Batman is totally going to have my head for this so don't go telling anyone but...” He shrugged and held out his hand. “I'm Dick Grayson.”

Wally took his hand, forcing his jaw to close, and he nodded.

“I've got nothing to hide,” He said after he regained enough brain function to speak. “I'm--”

“Wally West,” Dick said coolly before Wally even got the chance to reach up for his cowl. He looked at him, startled. “Hey, I'm a detective, remember?”

 

If Wally's memories of before were in a movie, they would be sepia-toned, colors washed out to a dull brown. He's a spectator in actions that feel far away, memories of Dick Grayson without sunglasses, of himself without super speed and a superhero for an uncle, of Bruce Wayne just being a billionaire philanthropist, nothing more.

His memories start falling away, until the memories of being alone and not belonging are replaced with those of being with the team, of running track in high school and private jet rides to Wayne Manor are replaced with blowing himself up in his garage to give himself super speed and zeta tube trips and super speedy runs.

There are worse things, he will idly think in the dark hours of the morning when he is trying to remember things from his past universe, and even though everything in his life is now slightly shifted and Artemis will not look him in the eye for longer than a few moments and he's forced to call Dick a different name in public, he concludes that he is correct.

There are worse things.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this was inspired by a radiolab segment on death and i've been writing it for what feels like forever so i'm super excited to finally be posting this! thanks for reading and please like/bookmark/comment if you liked it. my tumblr is ivankarelin.tumblr.com and my headcanon tumblr is motokiharuna.tumblr.com!


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